


Richtung

by MajorPidge (ScoracleTrash)



Series: Dressage [7]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bootblacking, M/M, collaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScoracleTrash/pseuds/MajorPidge
Summary: Armitage performs an act of service for Enric, and the reward is better than he can imagine
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Enric Pryde
Series: Dressage [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839196
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Richtung

**Author's Note:**

> Richtung. “Rightness.” Only a disciplined horse has rightness of form.

“Aren’t you supposed to take these off before maintaining them?” Armitage asked.

“Normally, yes,” Enric said, “But where’s the fun in that?”

The older man was seated with the heels of his boots resting on the low table in front of the settee in his quarters. Armitage, meanwhile, was seated on the floor beside Enric’s legs, going through the other’s boot kit, making certain everything was in order.

In negotiations, Enric had made it clear that he expected Armitage to start maintaining and polishing his boots as an act of service. But he had given the young man some time to adjust to their base protocols before placing the responsibility on his shoulders. And yes, he planned to take his boots off most of the time. It was hard to maintain them properly without doing so. But just this once, and perhaps every now and then in the future, he planned to leave them on.

How sweet his boy looked on the floor, brow knitted as he made certain the kit was fully stocked, as he picked up a cleaning brush and turned his attention to the soles of Enric’s boots.

“Where does all this dirt come from?” Armitage asked as he began to use the bristles of the brush to loosen dried mud from the soles.

“From the Knights of Ren,” Enric said as he rolled his eyes, “No manners. Certainly not gentleman warriors.”

“I’ll be glad to be rid of them,” the young man nodded as he brushed away the dirt from the tread of the left, then the right. Then he examined the rest of the boots. He gave them a quick dusting, but they didn’t exactly need it; Pryde was meticulous and careful, and it wasn’t as if he had been traipsing through mud himself. 

“So will I, but of course-“

“-Patience,” Armitage smiled as he met his mentor’s eyes, “I know. I am patient. For the first time in my life, I feel as if I could be content if things never changed.”

“I feel very much the same,” said Enric as he took a sip of a glass of dark wine, nearly black in color.

The man on the floor picked up a cloth and with a practiced precision gathered a small amount of boot cream from a glass pot.

“Of course,” he said as he began to apply it to the outside of the boot closest to him, “I’m going to have to get between your legs to get everything. But then, you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I like you on the floor between my legs, boy,” said Enric with a wry grin, “It’s where you look your very prettiest.”

Armitage flushed red. “Thank you, Daddy,” he murmured. 

Enric laughed, then began to hum to himself as he reviewed their contract on his datapad.

Armitage worked the cream into the leather with a thoroughness that was a mark of all his work before standing and rounding the table to reach the outside of Enric’s other boot. Meanwhile, the other man turned his calf inward in order to inspect the work on the previous leg. He found no fault with it.

“I think Parnadee knows,” Armitage said idly as he worked on the second boot.

“Of course she knows,” Enric said, taking another sip of wine, “You’ve gotten very precise about always walking in proper position behind me during the workday. She’s a very skilled Owner, she probably noticed the first week.”

“Has,” Armitage coughed, “Has anyone approached you? To ask, I mean?”

“No,” said the other idly, “No one has. I’d wager they’re rather afraid to. I’m not only the ranking General in the First Order, I’m it’s ranking Owner. Why don’t you stop worrying about who knows and just bask in the knowledge that even if they resent you, there’s not a thing they can do about it?”

He looked down. “I don’t know, honestly. I know there’s no shame in it, and yet I feel shame. As if there’s weakness in submitting to you. I know there isn’t, but I fear others may see it that way. I’ve always been seen as weak. It would be just like someone to say, ‘There goes Hux, always weak, always riding coattails to the top, always licking boots.’”

“Not while you’re cleaning them,” said Enric, and Armitage gave him a look.

“I know,” Enric continued, “I understand. But I would execute anyone who said such a thing about you, and besides, they’re all wrong,” he parted his legs, “Come here. You need to do the insides, anyway.”

Armitage stood and stepped over one leg, coming down gracefully onto his knees in the space between and lowering his chin.

“Look at me,” Enric reached down and turned his chin back up, “I love you, Armitage. You are the strongest person I have ever met. You have clawed your way up through unimaginable abuse to be where you are, and you have already proven wrong with your record any who would call you weak. I did not take your submission from you. You gave it to me. Choosing to submit oneself is not only a sign of strength, it is a sign of profound maturity. Maturity no one who would disparage you possesses, for certain.”

Emotion welled in Armitage’s eyes.

“It is I who am weak, boy, before you. I’m wrapped around your finger. I’d burn down the Galaxy for you.”

“You, weak? Impossible, Enric.”

They looked in one another’s eyes for a long moment before Armitage began to work at the remaining parts of the boots.

When he was finished, he picked up another brush and began to buff the leather, working up the slightest of sweats before he was done, vigorous work to make the blackness shine like a mirror. He ended on his knees beside Enric, who looked at his legs for a long moment, inspecting.

“Excellent work, pet. I don’t think they’ve ever looked better.”

“They’d have looked better if you had taken them off,” Armitage smirked.

“Watch that sweet mouth of yours,” Enric smirked as well.

“What now?” The younger man asked.

“Well, I could show you what I had Trach making for me this past month.”

Armitage perked up. He had been waiting for the reveal of this particular surprise. Trach spent his free time leatherworking, and was known to be damn good at it.

Enric stood and went to his bedroom, Armitage in tow. He entered the code into the drawer panel where he kept his most private things, and pulled out a long black box.

“Open it.” He urged his boy.

Armitage lifted the lid and pulled out the long, slender, braided implement within.

“It’s called a signal whip,” said Enric, “It’s a short whip, without a fall. A whip without a fall, you only ever want to use on one person,” he touched Armitage’s cheek, “Take this as a sign I’ve decided I want no other than you.”

The ginger set the box in the drawer and embraced his mentor impulsively, clinging to him for life.

Enric’s arms wrapped around him gently and stroked his back, “You’re ready. Not tonight, it’s been a long day already, but this weekend. When we have the day free. I don’t want to leave these rooms until we have to work again. I’ll have Erdisa bring us anything we require; she, too, is trustworthy and is a reputable charge.”

“You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I have some idea. Some look at this life, the life of an Owner, as an excuse to play the field. Or amass a hareem. I have only ever thought of it as the only sure way to know when my soul has found its missing piece.”

“There is this, as well,” he went on, reaching for a much smaller black box.

Armitage opened it. Inside was a stamped tag with a cipher of his mentor’s initials.

“You wear it with your tags,” the older man explained, “It marks you as mine. I meant to give it to you sooner, but, well, there is a war on, and Haysian smelt is hard to come by.”

His boy embraced him again.

“Here, let me.”

Armitage turned and fished his tags out from the depths of his tunic, and behind him Enric opened the clasp and slid the tiny charm onto the chain before closing it again.

“How do you feel?”

“Complete.”

“So do I.”

They shared a long, slow kiss before closing the drawer.

“What now?” Armitage repeated.

“Now, my inquisitive boy, I want you to undress me. And then...I’m going to take my time with you.”

The young man shivered with delight. Undressing, and, on rare occasions, dressing, Enric was one of the most pleasurable acts of service he had been assigned. He knew he was in for a night of torturously slow teasing...his lover was maddeningly patient.

He was going to relish every second of it.


End file.
